


Virtuous

by SneaselXRiolu



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Freedom, Gen, Happy Ending, Mild Blood, Stabbing, Suicide, knife, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22279786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneaselXRiolu/pseuds/SneaselXRiolu
Summary: A Martha's last thoughts.
Kudos: 9





	Virtuous

I ask myself the same question as I do every time I have cooked. "Why?"

I dare not pause, but my eyes look to the knife I hold as I slice. A privilege. A trust. To hold something so deadly and promise not to use it on others. Or yourself.

I am done being trusted.

I miss my books. I miss my songs. I miss my sisters. I miss my animals. 

I cannot wear my favorite color, now I wear baby shit green. An ugly dress that covers me head to toe. 

I cannot wear those dresses or clothes I once loved. Decorated with themes of a fair or a camp I once attended. Sweats that covered legs I didn't bother to shave. A simple choice of refusal to wear tight Jean's that scratched me. My dresses made me feel good. Curvaceous. Sexy.

I no longer wear glasses. It's bullshit. I cannot see many things without them, keeping me confined to this stupid house. This room.

I want to go outside, feel the rain as it storms.

I grit my teeth.

I once had a therapist. Where was she? She helped me with my anger. My violence. Against my friends. Against my family. Against myself.

I was Christian. No. I am.

I am a Methodist and I hold this knife in the name of God. Not in the name of that cult that murdered so many people. Going against the ten commandments.

Thou shalt not kill.

Lord. I start my prayer. If I am supposed to be here, stop me. 

I count. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, ... no one is coming. 

I raise the knife. I aim for just under my ribcage.

I pierce my skin, and go deeper. Don't stop. I had to bury it deep. Blood stained my dress, making it a beautifully ugly color that I hadn't even seen on the handmaids.

Only the hilt remains to be buried. I've been clenching my teeth to keep from shouting. I release the knife from my skin and flesh.

I collapse, the food coming down onto me.

The sin pours out of me. Their sin. My sin. I am now virtuous.


End file.
